February 16, 2004

Greetings from Cupid,

Ben was 11 minutes late for everything his entire life.

He was the last one out of bed in the morning, and the last one to bed at night.  His family waited for him in the car, at the amusement park, at football games and birthday parties.  He was late for church, late for Cub Scouts, late for dentist appointments, late for breakfast, lunch and dinner. 

 No amount of preparation would help.   Shoes mysteriously disappeared, backpacks wandered off, homework reappeared at the last moment.  Alarm clock tricks never worked, his inner clock would not be fooled.  And regardless of when he awoke, his world would not adjust to the world waiting for him.  It would have to wait.

"Hurry up Ben, for crying out loud, what are you doing?" his mother shouted from the bottom of the steps.

"I'm changing my shirt, the other one had toothpaste on it."  said Ben, his arms half in the sleeves of the clean shirt. "And, I can't find my viola music."

Before his mother could speak, they heard the sound of the school bus honking as it went by.   They both knew that if he left now, and ran as fast as he could, he would be 11 minutes late for homeroom.  His mother threw up her hands and went muttering back to the kitchen to feed his little brother.

He was late for school, late for lunch, late coming back from the library.  He was late coming home and late for his viola lesson.  He wasn't picked for soccer because he was late to tryouts. 

As the years went by Ben became accustomed to being late, and it rarely bothered him.  He was a patient, confident, intelligent boy, and was only slightly affected by the exasperated looks of those around him.  He felt bad for his parents, who seemed always in a panic about him being late. 

As much as he wanted to please them, there was always some other voice that distracted him and no deadline could tempt him back.

Through high school he wandered the empty halls, his fellow students already 11 minutes into their studies.  He met the janitors, the security people, the deliverymen, and the cafeteria employees as they arrived. 

He waved goodbye to them each afternoon as he left, tromping through the flotsam of his fellow students who had already made their exit. He was regular boy in every other way, but he was still an echo of his peers, sounding 11 minutes after they had gone on.

Ben had friends, he was a very likeable kid.  He was open and easy to talk to, mature beyond his years.  He was philosophical about the challenges of being a teenager, optimistic about the future.  Girls orbited around Ben, drawn to his easy manner and good looks.  They found him enigmatic, unaffected by the usual pressures that weighed on young men.  Unfortunately, Ben's attempts at dating were doused with the same tardiness in every other part of his life, and romance will rarely tolerate a late suitor.

The day he left for college, a neighbor had to drive him because he missed his ride when he went back to the house for a book he wanted. 
He arrived to his dormitory 11 minutes after they gave his room to an exchange student from Paraguay.   Four years later, in a strange confluence of events that included a toaster fire, a stranded elevator and a runaway pony, he missed his commencement by 11 minutes. 

His counselor saw Ben's potential and arranged for a wonderful job opportunity in the city.  Ben was grateful, and excited at the chance to live in the city.  The night before his interview he laid out his clothes, set his alarm for an hour earlier than needed, and double-checked the times for the train the next morning.

He ran to catch his train, briefcase in hand, one blue sock, one brown sock, his coat only half on, hanging from one arm.  Even before he made it to the platform he knew the train was gone, rolled out at 8:00 a.m. sharp, just about 11 minutes ago.

He stood at the tracks, puffing a little from his run.  His forehead was not creased; no sign of tension was on his face.  His blue eyes scanned the train schedule on the wall, and saw that he would not make it to the city in time for his interview.  His job would go to some more punctual prospect. 

Sixty seconds ticked by.   Ben heard a noise off toward the steps, and turned to see a young woman running across the platform toward the tracks.  Her suitcases banged against her legs as she ran making for a comical gait.  She skidded to a stop at the apron, and looked up and down the tracks, as if expecting the train to appear from either direction at that moment.  Ben watched her drop the bags she was carrying and then sit down dejectedly on the concrete next to them.

To Ben she was beautiful.  The way she held herself, the long graceful hands, her pale skin.  From where he stood, he could see her eyes, even looking down they were lively and bright. Her auburn hair framed her face, a long intelligent looking face, right now a little creased as she rested it in her hands. 

Ben walked to where the girl's bags were and waited until she noticed him.  She stood up, a little startled, a little self-conscious.  As soon as she looked at him, Ben smiled.  She smiled back, but the smile faded.

"I was going to the city," she said gesturing at the bags around her, "I had an audition this afternoon."  She shrugged, tears were welling in her eyes.  Ben's heart melted.

"I missed the train," she said, "I'm guessing by about 12 minutes."  She looked down at her hands and said, almost to herself:  "Of course, it would be 12 minutes.  It always is."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Ben leaned down and set his briefcase on the concrete.  As he stood up he extended his hand, intending to introduce himself.  At that moment, the girl's hand came out and without looking their hands met.

Ben felt as though he had been connected to some incredible force.  It felt familiar and right, as though he had been waiting his whole life to touch her.   He held her hand lightly, not really shaking it, but holding it.  He could feel the tears on the back of her hand.

"I'm Ben."

"I'm Zoe."

Ben could not think of what else to say.  They stood there looking at each other, joined at the hands.  Time spun on without them; minutes and hours and days and years and all of it at someone else's pace. 
Neither felt even a moment pass.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Zoe." Ben finally said.

Her smile grew wider, and she laughed.

"That was yesterday." she said.

Hope this finds you in time for love,

David

Copyright © 2004 David Smith